


Forget All the Rest

by Bus_Kids_Burgade (Inthemorninglight)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Aromantic Jemma, F/F, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Bedsharing, Queerplatonic Relationships, grey-aro skye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-19 01:03:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11302530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inthemorninglight/pseuds/Bus_Kids_Burgade
Summary: "You're my person," Skye says, firm, certain. "Whatever else happens, you're my person."...Skye is afraid of thunderstorms, and Jemma doesn't date.





	Forget All the Rest

**Author's Note:**

> For a pride prompt on tumblr requesting Aromantic Simmons in a queerplatonic relationship with Skye.

**One**  
  
They’re not even flying the first time there’s a storm on the bus. They’re grounded at some S.H.I.E.L.D. outpost, wrapping up a case that didn’t go anywhere supernatural. Skye should just go back to sleep. She tells herself this, tells herself she has to be awake in five hours and sleep isn’t exactly an abundant commodity in this new life style. But the rain is loud against the plane and the lightning fills her entire bunk and she just -  
  
Sleep is not going to be a thing for her tonight, so she grabs her laptop and slips out of her bunk.  
  
Simmons is alone in the lab when Skye wanders in. Skye hadn’t really been expecting anyone to be up at all, so the sight of her is something of a welcome relief. She looks up from her work when Skye knocks on the open glass door and offers a blinding smile, the kind that can’t help but make the corners of Skye’s mouth twitch up too.  
  
“Couldn’t sleep either?” Simmons asks. “It’s horribly loud, isn’t it? I suppose I should have anticipated storms being particularly disruptive in a compact, metallic structure like this, but, you know, the thrill of the adventure and all….”  
  
Her eyes sparkle, if possible, with even more exhilaration. Skye finds herself smiling outright in response and grabs a chair.  
  
“Fitz is dead asleep, of course,” Simmons goes on, going back to the samples she’s preparing. “He’s always been able to sleep through anything. But I thought I might as well take advantage of my conscious state and get some work done.” She eyes the laptop Skye has set up on an open workbench approvingly. “Looks like we had the same idea. You know, it’s quite nice not being the only person working at three A.M. for a change.”  
  
Skye agrees. (Although she doesn’t tell Simmons that she’s actually deeply entrenched in a territory battle on Minecraft.)  
  
And it really isn’t as bad down here. The rain isn’t so loud, and Simmons’s chirpy rambling soothes the worst of her jitters. Simmons, she’s noticed, has a way of making her feel better just by being in close proximity.  
  
But, as if specifically to spite this cheerful thought, a clap of thunder loud and wicked enough to rattle the plane itself reverberates around them.  
  
They both startle. Skye just about falls out of her chair, but SImmons beams up at the ceiling. “It’s kind of marvelous, isn’t it? That tiny particles can make all that fuss. Skye - ? Are you alright?”  
  
Her attention has refocused on Skye, wonder turning to concern as she takes in the way Skye is shaking.  
  
“I’m great,” Skye tells her, going for jovial to cover up the fact that her heart's still racing. “Super. Really love thunderstorms.”  
  
Jovial has slid swiftly into sarcastic. Another more distant roll of thunder sounds and even though it’s much quieter, she can’t help tensing up. It’s embarrassing, really, and she’s starting to regret seeking out company. Jemma’s looking at her with her head tilted to one side, but the expression on her face is oddly thoughtful when Skye brings herself to look in her direction.  
  
“Hang on,” Simmons says and turns with a whip of her lab coat. She disappears down a passage and returns a moment later holding a heavy, blue vest Skye thinks is supposed to protect against radiation or something. She gestures toward Skye. “Can I…?”  
  
Skye obediently stretches out her arms so Jemma can slide the vest on. “Um, are we in danger of nuclear fallout or something?”  
  
“The weight and pressure suppress your nervous system,” Jemma explains, strapping the vest on tightly. “Derails the fight or flight response. Calms you down. Of course it only covers a portion of your body. It would work best if we had a weighted blanket or if I just sprawled on top of you, I suppose.”  
  
Skye snorts. “That’s a novel pick-up line. If you’re trying to get me into bed, Simmons, you can just ask.”  
  
She winks and Simmons flushes bright red, fumbling with one of the velcro straps. “That’s not - I wasn’t -”  
  
“I’m joking,” Skye assures her.  
  
“- because I don’t do that,” Jemma blusters, stepping back. “I mean - I don’t date. People. Anyone.”  
  
“Okay,” Skye says.  
  
“Just, um, so you know,” Jemma goes on, rocking a little on her toes, hands clasped. “Since we’re friends and everything. I suppose I can tell you that. That I don’t date. Or - or anything else. Just so you know. Since we’re friends.”  
  
Skye smiles again, fondly. “Okay,” she says. “That’s cool. And since we’re friends, I guess I can tell you I’m afraid of thunderstorms.”  
  
Jemma nods, visibly relaxing and resuming her natural state of slightly breaching Skye’s personal bubble. “But the vest helps, doesn’t it?”  
  
“Yeah, actually,” Skye admits, looking down at the garment in slight surprise. She still jumps when another clap of thunder rattles the lab instruments around them, but the weight of the vest helps to slows her heart rate, soothe the anxious knot in her chest. “And, you know, you help,” she adds, looking back up at Jemma.  
  
Simmons beams.

  
  
**Two**  
  
She’s not surprised at the knock on her door. She’s been waiting for it, Jemma realizes as she crawls out of bed to answer it. It’s been raining all morning. They got back from a mission just as dawn was spreading behind the ominous thunderheads, though, so she’s been trying to sleep through the noise. But her thoughts keep going to Skye, and so she’s not surprised to find her friend standing in the doorway, clutching a pillow and worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.  
  
Without a word, she stands back and Skye scampers across the threshold and onto Jemma’s bed.  
  
“I was just going to check on you,” Jemma tells her, sliding in beside her and pulling the blankets up around both of them.  
  
“It’s a stupid thing to be afraid of,” Skye says, sheepish even though she knows she doesn’t have to be around Jemma. “It’s just noise.”  
  
“It’s not stupid,” Jemma says firmly. “It’s actually quite logical and evolutionarily advantageous. Creatures who seek shelter in storms are much less likely to be struck by lightening or crushed beneath a fallen tree.”  
  
“Mm,” Skye mumbles, and burrows deeper beneath the blankets.  
  
Jemma winces apologetically. “Sorry - is that not helping?”  
  
“The logical part’s good,” Skye says. “Maybe not so much with the descriptions of doom.”  
  
“Got it.” Jemma turns to wrap an arm around her as thunder booms around them. “It’ll be over soon.”  
  
“I used to tell myself that, at St. Agnes,” Skye murmurs. “The nuns weren’t big on the whole climbing-into-bed-with-them thing, and the older kids would usually kick you for trying, so….”  
  
Jemma tightens her grip. “I’m not going to kick you.”  
  
Skye laughs a little. “Good.” And then, more seriously, “Thanks.”  
  
“Any time.”

  
**Three**  
  
You can’t really hear storms in the bunks at the Playground; they’re too far underground, below too many floors of offices and storage. But Jemma calls anyway.  
  
The phone’s signal is encrypted, bounced through who knows how many cell towers. It’s supposed to be for contacting Coulson or May in an emergency, but it will work for this too.  
  
“Simmons?” Skye sounds incredulous when she picks up. But she does pick up, and this is the important part.  
  
“Hi,” Jemma says and her voice comes out smaller than she expected.  
  
“Are you okay? Where the hell are you?” Skye demands.  
  
“I’m - yes. I’m fine. I’m at home.”  
  
“At home,” Skye echoes.  
  
“Yes.” There’s a pause. “But - I’ve been checking the weather, and I saw -”  
  
“It’s storming,” Skye finishes for her. Jemma’s not sure, but she thinks her voice might be a little softer “Yeah. It’s storming here.”  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
Skye lets her breath out and it rushes across the distance between them, wrapping around Jemma like a blanket. “I’d be better if you were here.”  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
There’s some more silence, and there are so many things Jemma wishes she could say.  
  
“Simmons - why did you leave?”  
  
The question makes her chest tight, makes her thoughts scatter, and she has to go crawling after them to pick them up. “I - I thought… it would be better.”  
  
“It’s not.”  
  
“I have to do this, Skye. It’s just something I have to do. But I saw it was storming, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”  
  
“I’m okay,”  
  
“Good.”

  
  
**Four**  
  
Skye almost sleeps through the knocking, she’s gotten so good at tuning out unwanted noise, unwanted vibrations. But she hears it and wakes up and is perhaps a little surprised to see Jemma standing there but is more surprised by the uncertainty in her expression.  
  
“What’s up?” she asks, taking Jemma’s elbow to pull her into the room and rubbing sleep out of her eyes.  
  
“It’s storming,” Jemma says.  
  
“Oh,” Skye looks up a the ceiling as thunder rumbles overhead. “I guess it is. I didn’t notice.”  
  
“I thought - it would be worse. With your powers.”  
  
Skye pulls Jemma over to the bed and flops back down, rolling to leave space for Jemma to crawl in after her.  
  
“It was,” Skye tells her. “The first few storms - I could feel every raindrop hitting the roof, and the thunder - I thought I was going to explode into a billion atoms.”  
  
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” Jemma murmurs.  
  
She’s perched on the edge of the mattress, hands pressed between her knees.  
  
“It’s alright,” Skye says and reaches for her arm. “I just thought about you being there and that helped. Found some pillows to calm that fight or flight urge.”  
  
“But it’s not like that anymore?” Jemma asks.  
  
“Lincoln helped me figure it out. It’s actually a lot better now. I can muffle the sound waves before they hit me, put up a buffer to block them out.”  
  
“Doesn’t that take a lot of energy? Don’t you need to be conscious?”  
  
Skye stretches and since Jemma doesn’t seem to be coming any closer, she squirms a little closer to Jemma. “Not anymore. The first thunder or rain drops wake me up but it’s kind of like hitting snooze on an alarm clock. I just, start doing the thing and go back to sleep.”  
  
“Oh. Okay. I guess I’m keeping you awake then.” Jemma makes to get up, but Skye catches her hand.  
  
“You can stay if you want.” And when that uncertain look crosses Jemma’s face again, Skye smiles. “Haven’t really gotten to see much of you.”  
  
Jemma shifts her weight and looks down, blinking rather rapidly. “I probably shouldn’t.”  
  
“Why not?” Skye pushes herself up, takes Jemma’s other hand, and she reluctantly drops back to the edge of the mattress.  
  
It takes Jemma a few moments to speak, gather up the words. “You and Lincoln… are you… together now?”  
  
“Ah,” Skye sucks on her lower lip. “Um, no. Not exactly.”  
  
“But you want to be?” Jemma’s voice has gone rather brittle.  
  
“Come here,” she says and Jemma folds easily into her arms. They stay like that for a while, just holding onto each other, until Skye figures out what she wants to say. “I’m not sure what I want with Lincoln,” she says at last. “I’m not sure what I want with anyone. Except for you. I know I want you with me, all the time. Wherever I am, I’m pretty much always thinking dude, I wish Jemma were here.”  
  
Jemma laugh a little, but it fades quickly. “I don’t date,” she says soberly. “I don’t snog. I don’t… but I can’t be second best to everyone, either. If you want those things, I want you to have them, but I can’t… have you as my person but not be yours.”  
  
“You’re my person,” Skye says, firm, certain. She tucks the top of Jemma’s head under her chin. “Whatever else happes, you’re my person. We don’t need to have candle-lit dinners or make out or talk about all the different colors in each other’s eyes. That’s just superfluous crap. And I don’t know, I might like that superfluous crap with someone, but I don’t need it. I’m your person, and you’re my person, and that’s just… it. That’s it.”

  
“That’s it,” Jemma echoes. She pulls away, sitting back enough to smile one of her old, thousand-watt smiles at Skye. “I’m your person.”  
  
Skey entwines their fingers. Thunder crashes, but she keeps the sound far away, focuses on Jemma's palm against her own. “You’re my person.”


End file.
